


The Color of the Sky

by LilyCissa



Category: Lightbringer Series - Brent Weeks, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different Kind of Magic, Crossover, M/M, Some people aren't dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyCissa/pseuds/LilyCissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stiles… Are you ok?” His best friend took a step forward, and stared at him. Scott’s irises were beautiful, a dark brown mottled by orange and red, whereas his were… “Your halo…”<br/>“It’s broken?”<br/>“Almost.”<br/>That was a lie. Stiles knew his halo was broken. Blue tainted the whites of his eyes, creeping up, crawling underneath the skin to take possession of him.<br/>“I need to go.” he just said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Color of the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea and I began to write it without really thinking about it. It's not planned at all, it's just for fun really. So I don't know how many chapters there'll be, if explicit scenes will be involved, if deaths are to be feared. I'll just actualize the tags with each chapter.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it even if you don't know about TW or, more likely, The Lightbringer Series.

The rules have changed. If they trusted them, Stiles shouldn’t draft more blue. The halo in his eye was almost complete, and any more drafting would break it, make him a wight, a poor mad thing totally under the control of his own color. According to the rules, if you break the halo, you have to die. A wight is both dangerous to the others and to himself. The only right thing to do is to put an end to his misery. Stiles didn’t want to become a wight, so he shouldn’t draft blue.

The problem was the Color Rebels facing him and Derek dying at his feet.

“I need blue.” he muttered.

Then he drafted.

He felt the soothing rationality of blue, its inner logic piercing through his mind. He had to have a plan. Three opponents in front of him, and maybe more in the other room. With a quick gesture, Stiles opened his hand and let needles of hard and sharp blue luxin fly to their throats. He entered the living-room when Scott was fighting the others rebels, but found they were already dead, Scott surrounded by remnants or orange and red luxin.

“Stiles! We need to get out of here, I think it’ll all burn soon…”

The sticky red luxin had splattered the room, from floor to cellar, and was already consuming everything it touched.

“Where is Derek?” he asked then.

Stiles shook his head as he called back the blue luxin into his body.

“Stiles… Are you ok?” His best friend took a step forward, and stared at him. Scott’s irises were beautiful, a dark brown mottled by orange and red, whereas his were… “Your halo…”

“It’s broken?”

“Almost.”

That was a lie. Stiles knew his halo was broken. Blue tainted the whites of his eyes, creeping up, crawling underneath the skin to take possession of him.

“I need to go.” he just said. Scott knew too well what came after that. He let Stiles leave the house and disappear into the night. Instead, he went to Derek, and dragged his body out. His best friend had broken the halo, yet the moment Scott truly realized Stiles was a wight was when he found Derek wasn’t dead.

* * *

 

It’s been now a year since he left. Scott half-hoped he managed to kill himself and not become what blue wights were believed to be. Blue thrive on hard logic and pragmatism. The first conclusion wights make is that luxin is better than flesh. Once their color has taken control of their minds, they begin to replace their bodies with luxin, stripping away their own humanity and falling into madness. Scott prefered a dead Stiles as a wight Stiles.

Derek never bought it, though. Even after he was left for dead, he still trusted Stiles. It was an heresy to think you can be a wight and keep your sanity, yet Derek couldn’t get rid of that idea. He just needed the Chromeria, the council of U.S. drafters, not to know about it. They had to fight against wights all the time, and it was long since they showed any mercy in doing it.

“You can’t go after him and pretend he wouldn’t have changed, Derek.”

Peter was sitting on his couch, his eyes glowing with a faint deep blue light. He wasn’t a blue, but an ultraviolet. As Derek was way lower in the specter, he couldn’t actually see the marks in his uncle’s eyes, but they could be somehow felt behind his irises’ natural blue.

“I’m not pretending he wouldn’t have changed. I’m just hoping he’s not beyond saving.”

“Every wight is beyond saving, and you know that. If you want to save him, you have to kill him.”

Derek suddenly looked at the floor. He couldn’t tell him. Peter was a lot of things, but heretic wasn’t one of them. He was desperately loyal to the Chromeria, and would do anything they wanted him to do.

“By Malohror the Almighty, that’s what you plan to do, isn’t it?”

“We can’t let a blue wight roaming free.”

“Fair enough, but what if the Chromeria’s agents have already taken care of the problem?”

“They didn’t.”

Peter’s eyes almost closed with perplexity. “How can you be so sure?”

Derek sighed. “He texted me yesterday.”

“I’m not going to ask you why you didn’t warn our superiors, because I already know the reason why. You want to take care of that yourself?”

His nephew only nodded. Throughout the years he lived in Beacon Hills, he grew very fond of Stiles. And even if the boy left him bloody on the floor of a soon-to-burn house, he knew he saved him. He owed him that, at least.

“I’m going tomorrow.” He finally declared.

“I’m going too.” Peter said.

“I want to be alone for this.”

“Then why did you tell me?”

“’Cause you asked.” Derek answered with a shrug.

“If you don’t want me with you, I’ll tell Scott.”

Derek pretended to be alarmed, when in reality Scott already knew and was ok with him going alone. Never let Peter think you’re one step ahead, unless you wanted him to take the advantage.

“You can’t tell him, ok?” Derek answered. “If I have to bear your unsufferable presence, that’s alright, but you don’t tell Scott.”

Peter had a victorious grin. “Alright.”

Everything went as planned. Perfect.

* * *

 

When entering the motel room, Stiles put off his sunglasses. He didn’t need them with the Deucalion. He already knew what the teenage boy was. What a pity to break his halo so young! Usually, people have like a decade before coming to such ends. But Stiles never held back his drafting when it came to his friends, and they’ve gone through a good deal of trouble lately. Also, life wasn’t fair. Some drafters could live a long life of drafting, others were worn out after a few years. That is, if you were thinking into the Chromeria’s mold.

Deucalion wasn’t. Sitting on a chair, his own glasses lying down on his lap, he looked at Stiles and smiled. The blue wight knew the man was blind, but it was still buzzing him, that ability he had to look right in his eyes.

“Come here.”

In the blind eyes of the Deucalion, Stiles could see all the colors, melting in what was his whites. That was really puzzling at first, but the teenager got used to it somehow. He took a step forward, taking off his clothes. They both were used to their little ritual, so none of this felt weird to them. Deucalion lifted his hands, now fully red, and drafted the red luxin out. He covered Stiles’ body with it until he was in it from the neck down.

“Feel it.” Deucalion said. “Feel the rage, the emotions, the instinct…”

Stiles closed his eyes, and let the red enter his psyché. The warmth wasn’t the nice one, and soon it began to be painful again. But it was needed. To counter the cold logic of blue, he needed the savage instinct of red. He sighed, and waited for Deucalion to get him out of it.

“You’re my best subject, Stiles. My experiments went well with you, and you don’t seem to go rabid and mad like most of wights.”

“Yes. But is it really because of your red luxin, or is it more psychological that we thought it’d be?”

“Your blue is showing.” The Deucalion smiled. “We can’t say for sure. Let’s see this in a positive way. We don’t know what’s working, but it’s working.”

Stiles had to make a face not to let his blue mind want to know more about why and how. Sometimes those questions just don’t have an answer, and searching for them is the worst thing you can do. It lead to the feeling of powerlessness and despair. Stiles didn’t need more or it because of his unnatural survival as a wight.

Wait, who said that it was unnatural? The Chromeria. And Stiles thought that the Chromeria could go fuck itself, if that’s even possible. Red insinuated rage inside him, that was a good thing.

He thought for a year that rules had changed. Rules made by the Chromeria, the lying Chromeria. What if, in the end, there are no rules, only chaos?

He looked at his blueish hands, and felt another flare of anger coming from his heart. Fury, cold rage, and… Derek? What was Derek’s face doing in his thoughts? Scott? Isaac? Liam? Peter? Allison…

Stiles collapsed.

“At last.” Deucalion muttered, only watching. The teenage boy trembled, plagued by visions and feelings he couldn’t always understand. He lived a full year under the sole influence of blue. He didn’t know how to cope with another color.

Seconds passed, until they were minutes. Stiles’ body grew still, breathing hard. When he tried to get on his feet, he failed.

“Don’t worry, you’ll recover your balance soon.”

“Wh… what… is happening… to me?”

Stiles felt hot, too hot, feverish. If only he could let go of some of that warmth, just a little bit. Without knowing, he drafted.

“Interesting…” Deucalion was impressed. He didn’t think of something like that. In fact, that was the first time his experiment worked, and he didn’t know that injecting a certain color could result in drafting another.

“Congratulations, Stiles. You’re now a blue/sub-red bichrome.”

What…? You can’t force become a bichrome, not ‘just like that’…! Yet, Stiles must admit he was exposed to red and its warmth on a very regular basis this year. Maybe… That made sense. This was another rule, one dismissed by the victorious.

How more were there?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Meet me on [ Tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/galaxies-stones-and-shit)!


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